The light pitter-patter of rain against the roof of the Tim Hortons gave mental images of sleepy Sundays, cups of coffee, and the smell of a fire emitting from a fireplace. It was a day where many people retreated into their linens to spend a day with their thoughts, and only those who wished to battle the elements of Mother Nature met the sensation of raindrops against their skin.

As Deborah Brown, a TV executive for an American channel, entered the Tim Hortons, her green eyes were peered for a familiar face, and her lips pursed in an amalgamation of annoyance, despair, and happiness as she found her target; a man, a large jacket shielding his frame, and a baseball cap shielding his hair.

"Typical." She murmured, shaking off rain jacket for stray raindrops, before she meandered through the sparsely populated coffee shop to sit down across from the man, her arms folding over her chest. "You know, I could have rented out a conference room in the hotel I'm staying at." She informed the man, perking her brows as she took in his appearance. "What are you wearing? You look like an undercover cop."

The man lifted his head hesitantly, rolling his eyes at the woman's disrespect to his attire. Hastily, he removed his baseball cap, moving his hand through his shaggy black hair. The man was no other than Chris McLean of Total Drama infamy.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that? This feels more dramatic!" Chris' hands moved to his sides in a jazz-hand formation, a broad smile on his face that was not reciprocated by Deborah. She huffed, looking to her watch. "You have five minutes. What do you want, McLean? You have been barred by nearly every major executive in Canada. Why should I trust you?"

Chris saw that his usual wit and charisma wouldn't work on her and dropped his smile. "Listen, I've been pitching this idea to nearly everyone in Canada. No one's biting! That's why I've decided to cross into red, white, and blue waters and try it there. Total Drama was a raving success with American audiences!"

Deborah couldn't deny the show's appeal. Even in its messiest moments, people still tuned in. "No one's biting because of your..." She tried her best to maintain her professionalism, biting the inside of her cheek to block herself from saying anything too venomous. "Less than favorable reputation." She decided. "But, what's the pitch?"

Chris held up a finger, reaching into the briefcase that had placed beside him. After a few moments of shuffling, during which Deborah counted each second, Chris pulled out a map of the United States, placing it onto the table. There, Chris had drawn paths across the mainland, designating what appeared to be challenges in each state. "24 contestants, we travel across the country by RVs and we do challenges. It's the same format, just a different scope."

Deborah couldn't help but to be impressed as she quixotically took note of the meticulous detail of the map. "I'm not sure...It just seems like a lot. I can see the planning that's gone into this." She tapped her red, acrylic nails against the table. "McLean, why should I trust you?" She seriously inquired, peering into his eyes.

Chris was taken aback by the severity of the question. Why had she spoken like she was really considering it? He never thought he would even get this far. He realized, in that moment, this wasn't merely a pitch for his show, but a pitch for his own character.

"Look," he began, trying to fish for the most articulate and eloquent words to put his tangent together. "TV is lacking. Shows are coming to an end, and new ones are lackluster to say the least. We live in a society where the demand for nostalgia content is high. So many people grew up with my," he framed his jawline with his hands, "well-quaffed face on their TV screens. Your ratings will be substantial, and we can work together to try and get the best 24 teens we can."

Deborah was at cross-roads; on one hand, Chris McLean was notorious for being a sleazy slime ball who loved looking at himself in a mirror more than ethical law. On the other hand, she had to account for the business side of things. A new Total Drama would bring in new-watchers, as well as old fans of the show.

She was silent for several seconds, and Chris had started her job of counting the seconds. The music playing quietly in the background seemed to grow louder.

Finally, Deborah sighed, removing a notepad and her cellphone from her pocket. "Do you have a passport?"

Oh shit, here we go again.

I am making another SYOC! I got really inspired recently, and I am going to give this another shot.

Submit your OCs below, you can submit up to two; one boy, one girl. Get creative! I love reading and making OCs! Make them complex. Give me their fears, flaws, hopes, dreams. I would love to see it all!

If you need me to PM you the app, let me know 🙂.

Name (Full name):

Nickname (If any):

Age (16-18):

Gender:

Sexuality:

Trope/stereotype:

Personality (Detailed):

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Fears:

Skills (Lacking and strengths. Your character cannot be good at everything):

Talents (Musical, bilingual, etc.):

Backstory (Detailed):

Height:

Weight:

Ethnicity:

Build:

Eye color/shape:

Hair color/style:

Any distinguishable features (Piercings, tattoos, birthmarks, etc.):

Normal attire:

Swim attire:

Sleep attire:

Formal attire:

Strategy to win:

Intentions with winnings:

People they would befriend:

People they would make an enemy:

Do they want a romantic relationship:

If so, with who:

Audition (Creativity):

Thanks everyone!